Feet First a GSR story
by ILoveJorja
Summary: Grissom takes his time with Sara, fun and and smut. Sara reveals some good memories of her past based on Jorja's bio.


FEET FIRST

It had been three months, and Grissom and Sara were still in love and passionate lovers. At work, the longing looks, the "accidental" brushes of skin on skin, and the warm breaths on the back of responsive necks only heightened their anticipation of the nights to come. The mutual secret was also intensifying their private love story.

Grissom and Sara both took great amusement in how oblivious their team members were. Catherine still flirted with Gil, but got only baffled glares in return. Greg made suggestive comments to Sara, but got no encouragement, only amused looks.

Grissom and Sara had almost perfected reading each other's minds and interpreting looks and body language. One glance could contain an entire conversation.

It was a blessedly slow shift and Sara was in Gil's office, both finishing paperwork. The only sounds were their sighs, fluttering pages, and the scratches of pens on paper.

Sara looked up and gazed at Grissom until he looked up too. He caught her gaze and they exchanged a small smile. Simultaneously they stood up. Grissom gathered his stuff and Sara disappeared into the locker room. Exactly five minutes later Sara hopped into the passenger seat of Grissom's SUV. He'd already tuned the radio to Sara's favorite station and adjusted the interior temperature.

CHAPTER TWO

Sara leaned over and gave him a tender kiss. He kissed her back happily.

"Sixteen hours," he said, crinkling his blue eyes at her. "Sixteen free hours together."

"Bliss."

They sighed happily and gazed into each other's eyes. He nodded and shifted into gear. They slid into a peaceful silence that lasted until they pulled into the parking lot of his townhouse. They'd already made love twice that morning and had an intense shared shower, but could barely keep their hands off each other at work the past long 8 hours.

The lovers went inside, shedding jackets and bags, keys and briefcases, then shoes and socks. With practiced ease, they flipped off their pagers and cell phones and Grissom turned his home phone to flip automatically to voice mail. They barely took their eyes from each other's bodies as they shed their shirts and trousers. Grissom was in his candy-striped boxers, a Valentine's gift from Sara, which got a grin from her. Sara was in lace panties. She slid off her tank top and tossed it in a corner. Her breasts bounced free and Grissom stepped forward, capturing them in eager hands and her lips in an open-mouthed kiss.

They remained there for long minutes, devouring each other like they were eating ripe peaches. He stroked his thumbs across her nipples and they hardened instantly. He was hard and ready. Her hands slipped into his boxers, grasped his shaft and stroked it. She rubbed the pre-cum around the sensitive head of his penis. They moved closer and ran their hands down each other's bodies. Sara broke away and stepped backwards.

Wordlessly Sara held out her hand and led her lover to their bedroom.

When her back was turned, Grissom pounced, grabbing her by the waist and spinning them both around. Sara gave a delighted giggle followed by his deep chuckle.

He turned her to face him in his arms. Still holding her off her feet, hands cupping her ass, they kissed, revolving slowly and relishing the dizziness. Eyes closed, kissing with pure happiness, teeth gently tugging each other's lips and tongues entwining.

CHAPTER THREE

Grissom lowered her to the bed, grinning with lust. Her head was on the pillows. He moved to the end of the bed and ran his eyes along her body. _God she is beautiful. I could look at her until the end of time._ Sara marveled at his body as they both stripped off their remaining clothing.

Gently he lifted her feet to his mouth. He licked the delicate arches and heels in turn. Sara wriggled.

"Tickles."

He nibbled and kissed her feet and sucked her toes. Nibbling and kissing his way up her ankles and calves, he caressed and rubbed her arches, heels, and the balls of her feet and each toe with his strong fingers. Finding a painful knot in her Achilles heel, he rubbed it with his thumbs until the tension eased.

"Better. Oh God that feels good." She pondered that feet were as sensitive as hands.

As if reading her thoughts, Grissom spoke for the first time since they'd returned to their house.

"Feet have as many nerve endings as hands, though coarsened somewhat by calluses. When stimulated in the right way, feet are as erogenous as any other part of the body."

"I believe it," she said. "I believe everything you say." _She does, doesn't she?_

"I love your feet. Delicate and strong, just like the rest of you. Graceful."

"God, you can be so sweet." She flashed her Sidle smile.

"And you do know how to light up a room." They smiled at the memory.

"And my love, you know how to light up my heart." She blushed. "Man, that was corny."

"No, dear. Sentiments truly meant are never corny." He gave her his crooked smile.

"Where was I?"

"Here?" he asked, randomly kissing her legs and ankles.

"Or was it here?" taking a sudden interest in her elbow.

She laughed in the back of her throat. God, she loved playful Gil. So rare but so fun. He felt her humor and chuckled into her knees and the curves of her clean muscled legs.

"So soft, your skin," he breathed. "So smooth. So beautiful."

Sara rested her head back and surrendered to the pleasure of his touch and words.

Grissom looked at her and recited as she met his eyes:

"When laughing Ann trips down the street

The sun comes out as well,

The town is at her twinkling feet,

The crier rings his bell.

The young men leap like little fish,

Policemen stand and purr,

While husbands look behind and wish,

That they had married her."

"Wow," said Sara. "That has to be the nicest thing I've ever heard. Remind me to return the favor."

"Your pleasure is my pleasure, my sweet."

He dragged his tongue up her long thighs, alternating.

"Aaah, God, so good," she moaned. He made his way up her inner thighs, relishing her moans and cries of pleasure. He lifted her knees to his shoulders. Taking a deep breath of her intoxicating scent, he dragged his tongue across her folds, parting them and pressing his muscular tongue to her warm cleft. He dipped his tongue into her vagina, pumping slowly, and drew his hand to her erect clitoris. Quickly he took it between thumb and forefinger, and squeezed that rubbery pleasure cluster of nerves. In moments, Sara came, with a rush of warmth that spread from her toes to her head. She squealed and arched her back, thrusting her hips. He brought her to orgasm again and again, building to each high until she felt as if her body would float away on a blissful cloud.

She dug her fingers into his tight curls and pulled him up across her body. He moved to her face, her lips parted, both panting in small gasps. He trailed a hand between them and guided himself into her, relishing the play of emotions on her face. Their groans drowned in each other, their bodies fused, and they felt the warm sensation of joining as intensely as their first time.

Grissom rocked his hips, balancing on his forearms. She met him thrust for thrust and they pumped faster and harder, heat building, ecstasy gathering. Grissom erupted and emptied his seed into her as they mutually cried out in bliss.

He collapsed on her body and Sara slid her hands along his sweat-moistened back and strong shoulders.

"God you make me feel so good."

"Mmmhmm. Me too. Me too."

CHAPTER FOUR

She turned to hold him to her.

"Grissom?"

"Yes, love?"

"I'm kinda glad that it took so long, for us to get together."

"Really?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes, I've been thinking. If we'd rushed into a relationship, fallen into bed the moment we met, it wouldn't have been this good, this true."

"You're right. This is a love that needed to build, brick by brick. Definitely not a casual fling."

"Yes, exactly. The Italians don't say you have a relationship. They say you have a story. _Ha una storia_. We have a helluva story."

"You know Italian?"

"Yes, I learned a little, when I was a model."

"You were a model??"

She smacked his arm lightly. "What, you don't believe I could be a model?"

"No, no, of course you could. With your legs, your body, your face…I just never knew." _Would this woman never cease to amaze him?_

"Yes, well, I was young. I was sixteen, and my foster mother took me to a beauty contest at a little strip mall. I won, and for the first time the girls at school looked at me differently. They were impressed and that, that made me feel special."

"You always were special."

'Thanks. So a modeling agent came up to me after the show and offered to rep me. Take head shots and so on." She chuckled a little. "My foster mom didn't let me alone with him for a moment. She watched him like a hawk."

"He was a gentleman, though. And he showed us that he was the real deal. I made some money, got some work. And then he offered to send me to Milan."

"My foster mother resisted at first, then realized it was a golden opportunity for me. She let me go. I went with some other girls. It was fun. That was my first time on an airplane, my first time to Europe. I was seventeen." Sara smiled, remembering.

"It was rough, and there was some mixup with the photos. We ran out of money and got kicked out of our apartment. Luckily a friend took us in and it all worked out. I made a nice chunk of change, which made a big difference when I finished high school and got a scholarship to Harvard. I could buy my own things, books, not just textbooks, but whatever I wanted. I rented an apartment my senior year and furnished and decorated it."

"I was a grownup. Free of the hell of my childhood. Independent. I felt good."

He listened and agreed with her silently.

"So when I went to graduate school at Berkley, I gave her most of what I had left. She was good to me."

"I'm glad."

"She had a bunch of kids still and not much to live on."

"And then I met you. And the rest is history."

"Yes. Our story."

"Our story," she agreed. "Our love story."

THE END


End file.
